The Black Chrysalis Journals
by AaMcClelly
Summary: In the vast majority of cases, there is a distinct wall between HiveWings and their SilkWing slaves, one that does not encourage empathy and is rarely crossed. However, one HiveWing plans to shake up the status quo, and try to pave the way to a world where his friends can be on open, even ground as him. Naturally though, his journey will be anything but straightforward.
1. Chapter 1: A SilkWing's Journal

**Author's Note: Alright, so I wrote this shortly after reading "_The Hive Queen_," so forgive me if there are any lore inconsistencies. This was originally going to be a standalone, and some might have seen this story as "_A SilkWing's Journal_." Well, I decided to add another chapter or so; we'll just have to see how far it goes. In any case, I hope y'all enjoy reading it, and I look forward to your reviews and critique. This is rated T for blood, depression, and self inflicted injury.**

I am Viceroy. I am the head servant of the house, Red Brush. I have been their servant for over twenty years, and it has been an interesting occupation to put it lightly. The family has always been in constant turmoil, especially since Mistress Vespa passed away, which has been the greatest tragedy the family has ever dealt with.

I still remember the magic that one used to bring to the house. Most of the time there were at least two sides for everything in the family, from ethics and justice to food and decorations. To be blunt, that has not changed – it has gotten worse in fact. But if there was one thing that everyone could agree on and back up, it would be our love for Mistress Vespa. Nobody was as sweet or playfully sarcastic as she was. Nobody had the audacity to treat SilkWings and HiveWings as equals. Nobody could love as deeply as she did and share it as freely as she did. Well, I guess there are a few others like her. Her son is becoming more and more like his mother, and at the same time still growing into his own dragon. Alderfly can be very kind, but his sarcasm and irony are like a razor. He believes in equality and equity like she did, but he fights for it like a savage backed in a corner as opposed to using delicate and fancy persuasion. He can love as deeply as his mother, but he chooses who is worthy of that love.

I remember Mistress Vespa's passing all too well. At first when she was sick, she lay at home because we thought she had a condition that could be cured with simple medicines. When her health did not improve though, the doctors took a much closer look and said she had something nasty in her lungs. The entire household was almost as religious as my father after that. Everyone was praying and begging to Clearsight for Mistress Vespa's recovery. I even caught Master Hornet in his office whispering a prayer, and it continued for at least a minute until he noticed I was there. I know I was terrified for her life, for she was the one that convinced me that some HiveWings are redeemable.

Mistress Vespa would call me by my name with a voice that said I was her equal. She did not do this in public, because she would probably be punished by the Queen, but she would do it whenever and wherever in the house. It would drive Master Hornet crazy, but he never could get her to stop doing it, and eventually he gave up. She would ask me how my day and family were, and remembered the things I said. She bought my children birthday presents, made sure my wife could go to the doctor for her arthritis, and would always make sure to save me a few dried plums after parties. I used to think she was Clearsight in a new body because of all the love she gave to us.

So, when we knew she was going to die, we all wept and keened for her. It was on the night of her passing that the problems between Master Hornet and Alderfly became almost permanent. To be blunt, Master Hornet is a very petty dragon, and always competed with his son for Mistress Vespa's love, even though he received more than was proper, in my opinion. He rarely tried his tricks in front of Mistress Vespa because she had too sharp an eye for injustice, but he would always try something that got Alderfly out of the room or late for a gathering. It was frustrating to watch, but what Master Hornet did on the night of Mistress Vespa's passing was evil.

Before her condition became so horrible, Alderfly could go to the hospital and visit her. But the two days she was at her worst and we knew she was going to die soon, Master Hornet forbade Alderfly from seeing Mistress Vespa. His reason for this was that his son was too young to see someone he loved in so much pain. If it had been anyone else it could have been seen as misguided protection, but I know my master too well. I know that night was painful for him, and that pain brought out his savagery and greed. That is why Master Hornet and Alderfly do not eat together unless they must entertain guests.

I remember those months right after she died. That time was horrible because the entire house was dark and quiet, and there was a great divide between masters and servants. Master Hornet was more snappish and treated us like mindless drones, and Alderfly became downright mean. He had always been a cheery and respectful dragonet, even to me and the other servants, but after that night he treated any SilkWing he passed like dirt. He was always ready to shout at us, to give us punishments at the splash of a raindrop, and as a whole became something Mistress Vespa would be horrified by. The greatest offense was when he started bullying my children. They did not see each other often, but when they did he tormented them and always had them coming to me or their mother crying.

I grew to hate Alderfly. The sweet little dragonet I had known for three years had become a little brat I wanted to grab by the tail and use to beat rugs. I used to plot ways to make him get hurt or humiliated. Since he had hurt my children, I had no qualms with figuring out whatever was necessary to defend them. Today I am rather ashamed of some of my thoughts, for I see now that they were almost as petty as Master Hornet's. I realize now that the masters of the house were not the only ones driven to savagery to escape pain.

I remember the afternoon when Alderfly changed. It was during the raining season and everyone but Master Hornet was cooped up in the Hive. He was at Bloodworm Hive for business, which made all of us thankful. Since there was only one brat in the house, it was easier for me and the other servants to avoid Alderfly because there were more rooms to escape to with no risk of running into Master Hornet. Essentially there was no risk of jumping from the frying pan into the fire. It was quiet, and almost peaceful, though everyone was still mourning to a degree. I discovered none of us at that time were suffering half as much as Alderfly though.

I was in the storage room looking for dried reeds. My shift was close to an end, and I thought I would take a few things from the house instead of flying all the way to the market. I planned to replace what I took, though I still felt guilty. I think Clearsight put that strange laziness over me, because if anyone else went to the storage room I don't know if Alderfly would be here today. I had entered quietly, for that is how servants must move, and I was not there for long before I heard someone crying. I thought it was one of the younger servants mourning for Mistress Vespa, so I decided to give them privacy, but before I left I heard a yelp. I was very confused, and went looking for the dragon.

I did not expect to see Alderfly in something like the corner of a storage room. I expected even less to see him there with a knife, slicing his wrist. It was not a very sharp knife, so the cuts were shallow. But seeing him soaked in his own tears and cutting into his own arm was too much for me, and I gasped. He looked up at me, and had a face like any of my children would have when they were caught doing something bad. We stared at one another for what felt like a long time. I stepped forward and took the knife away, and he let me do it with no resistance or complaint. I set it on a shelf, and when the metal touched the wood it was like pulling a lever on him, because he immediately began to sob again. I did not have the heart to leave him, because I suddenly remembered that this used to be the sweet young dragonet who adored his mother. I realized this was an angry dragonet that had lost his mother and been barred from saying goodbye to her by his own father.

I think that the spirit of Mistress Vespa gave me the strength to look passed Alderfly's recent behavior. I wrapped him up in my wings like he was one of my children, and he leaned into me like I was the father he should have had. He cried for a long time, and when he was stable enough to speak I asked him. "Why are you hurting yourself?"

He dug his claws into the floor and anger burst forward in his eyes, and he said. "I hate everything! I hate Dad, this house, everyone at school, everything! I miss her so much, it's not fair! I just… I just don't want to feel it anymore."

He started to cry again, and I let him. I wanted to help him, but I needed to make sure I used the right words. Once I felt confident enough, I told him. "I know everything is terrible right now. We all miss your mother and are frustrated with the world, to put it lightly. But there is one thing I know for certain: your mother would not want you to hurt yourself. She would want you to look for help, because she would know you are strong enough to move passed all this." I held him by the shoulders, and he looked up at me. I could tell by his eyes that my words were intimidating, that the idea that he would have to tackle all that pain brought a sense of dread. But I looked at him with as firm an expression as I could – I noticed then that I had shed a tear or two as well – and said. "I know you can do it. It will not be easy, but I beg of you, Master Alderfly, to at least try your best for the sake of your mother and her spirit."

Alderfly looked away from me, his tears still falling here and there. He looked to be thinking hard, but then he said. "I don't know what to do."

I let the words fade away, and told him. "I will help you."

He was quiet again. Then he looked up at me with puffy wet eyes and said. "I don't want to be alone."

I understood this dragonet did not need to be alone right now, but I still had obligations at my home that needed tending. I was in a dilemma. I could have brought Alderfly home and he could eat with my family and me, but bringing home my children's bully did not feel like a good idea. I had not forgotten Alderfly's most recent behavior, and I cannot say I trusted him to not go back to all that once his tears dried. I took time to debate with myself by finding medical supplies for Alderfly's wounds. He had cut himself twice before I had gotten to him. By the time his wrist and forearm were properly treated, I had come to a decision. It was quite a gamble, but I knew that what was done tonight would be important for our relationship with the household.

While Alderfly fiddled with a loose piece of wrapping on the bandage, I looked at him with a stern look – one a servant probably should not direct at a young master – and told him. "Master Alderfly I need to get home. My family is waiting for me there, and my time with them is very important, especially these days. You are more than welcome to come and eat with us, but on one condition: you do not be mean to my children."

He stopped playing with the bandage. I could not see his face, but I saw by his posture that he was tense. I was still nervous, because I did not know if he would catch on that his own servant had given him an ultimatum. Either you can stay here and be alone, or you can come with me and treat me and mine with respect. If it had been someone like Master Hornet, I would probably have gotten my eyes ripped out. But Alderfly was very quiet for a long time.

He looked up at me and nodded, saying. "I won't, I'll be quiet."

I was still unsure about what would happen, but Alderfly had agreed to my terms and I am a dragon of my word. Especially where dragonets are involved. So, I took what I needed from the storage room and brought Alderfly with me back home. I gambled a lot that evening. I first gambled whether I could get away with negotiating with one of my masters, then I gambled whether everyone would behave at home. I was worried about how badly my children would react to me bringing their tormentor home, and I knew my wife would not be much different. She is as protective of our clutch as I am. But I knew this was a difficult situation that had no straight-forward solution, and it would demand for us to build character. I hoped that both Alderfly and my dragonets would learn some empathy.

We reached my family's cell near the Hive's lower quarters. Alderfly said nothing and stayed very close to my side while we walked and flew. When we reached my home I heard my little ones bounding toward me from the silk bridge. I looked over just in time to see their faces go from gleeful and loving to confused and horrified. I did not want them to make a scene, but I was not going to do what many would and try to carry on like everything was normal. I do not waste my time with weak and petty fantasies.

I walked towards them and told them. "Swallowtail, Buckeye. Master Alderfly will be joining us for dinner tonight. Some things happened at the house and he needs to be with us right now."

Their eyes were like claws around my heart. I could tell they felt betrayed. I had comforted them when Alderfly bullied them, and would sometimes join them in criticizing his behavior. So, their father went from protecting them from the enemy to bringing the enemy to our front door.

They looked at Alderfly with what I thought very good control over their tempers. They scowled some, but most of their anger was kept in their eyes and did not come out in their snouts or voices. I looked at Alderfly with them and realized what might have made them pause. Alderfly's eyes were mostly dry, but you could tell he had been crying very hard, and the bandage around his arm had a few blotches of blood. I was proud of my children for being as calm as they were, though I still hated how they looked at me as we went into the house without speaking a word. I did not blame them for their anger.

My wife did not keep her temper in check as well as my son and daughter though. When she turned around from the counter-top her face went from pleased to shocked in a very short time. She kept looking at me and Alderfly as she said. "Uh what is he… what is going on, Viceroy?" Her eyes began to smolder and she was careful to not look directly at Alderfly.

I faced her and told her like I told our children. "Master Alderfly will be joining us for dinner tonight. Some things happened at the house and I cannot leave him alone right now."

I knew she was not satisfied with my brief answer, but her eyes looked over Alderfly. My wife's eyes are sharp and quick. I know she saw his puffy eyes, the bandage on his wrist and his lowly posture and expression. She might have been confused and maybe a little suspicious, but she became silent and nodded.

I looked down at Alderfly and saw that he stood close to me. I did not put a wing around him to comfort him because I knew that would upset my family more, and in all honesty I wanted him to feel their looks. In a dark way I was satisfied with how he kept his head low and looked to be thinking small thoughts. I thought it was a good sign that he seemed ashamed. I saw my children on the other side of the room staring at him with very faint frowns, though I could not tell what they must have been thinking. I imagine they were not pleasant thoughts. It was even more awkward because of how cramped our home was. Because of my station, my family and I could afford a very nice cell, and we were fortunate to find one with three rooms. It was a mere soapbox to Alderfly though, and he would not be able to get away from judgement.

I took pity on him after a few minutes though. I realized that all the staring and quick scowling was getting to him, and I could not let that continue when he was supposed to be there for comfort. I put him by a corner with a few of our books and hoped he would find one that interested him. I then had my children working on getting food ready, to occupy them from being so aware of their bully. With three cooks, there was not much for me to do in the kitchen, so I began setting up the table. Normally it is quite plain, but because we had a guest I made sure to get a table cloth and our best dishes. It was not long before everything was ready, and the five of us finally sat at the table and tried to eat.

I could not stand the tension. Nobody spoke or looked at each other, not even to have condiments and food passed around the table. All anybody but I did was grunt and point at something, and it would be passed to them with even less acknowledgement. I was between Alderfly and my children so they did not need to be right next to one another, but my wife sat directly to Alderfly's right and behaved coldly towards him. He remained quiet as the dead, and only ate the food that was directly in front of him. He was trying to avoid as much interaction as possible, and it was because of this that he did not ask any of us to serve him like he would at his home. I believe he was all too aware that he was no longer in his home.

I let this continue for a few minutes, but eventually I broke the tension because it felt wrong to let it keep going. I turned to Buckeye and asked him. "So, you had that race today, right?"

Everyone at the table froze like I had become a monster that had not noticed them yet. My son took a moment before looking up at me, then said. "Yes."

I expected him to continue since we both knew there was more to say. But in such an uncomfortable place I had to prod him towards giving me more details, so I asked him. "Well, how did it go?"

There was silence again, though it was not as long as before. Then Buckeye leaned back a bit – I think he was using me to block the sight of Alderfly – and told me. "It went pretty well. I got third place this time."

Before then my son had only been in seventh and fifth place. I was genuinely proud of him, and I smiled wide when I said. "Ah that is fantastic! How hard did you have to fight for it?"

My son smiled too and said. "It wasn't easy. Admiral and Morpho got a little lazy I think and tripped up, almost literally. Toward the end I really had to push myself because Spicebrush had a greater lead, but I actually passed her at the last second!"

I was very proud now. I gave my son a slap on the back with my tail and told him. "Good job! It should not take long now for you to get first, yes?"

My son was grinning wide as he said. "Yeah, only two more ranks to go!"

I chuckled at him and turned to take a bite, but just before I could get any food, Alderfly suddenly spoke up and said. "No, wait, you need to go up three places."

The whole place became quiet and dark again. Everyone stared at Alderfly either confused or angry, and he seemed to shrink in his place. I was unsure how far I could get with being his temporary father, but I thought it was a bad idea to let his statement hang like that. Especially since it was incorrect.

I took a moment, then told him. "No, Buckeye is right. He only needs to go up two placements." Alderfly glanced up at me for a moment, then looked back at his plate. He looked genuinely unsure whether to say something, but his eyes seemed to say he believed I was wrong and did not know how to tell me. I understood he likely had a prejudice against any SilkWing's ability to do math, though to be fair he was of an age that liked to test adults, even his own kin.

He must have made his decision though, because after a few moments he held up a talon and counted off his claws as he said. "Third, second, first. That's three placements."

What he said was actually very helpful, because I now understood where the mistake was. It seemed a strangely common one among dragonets, and even some dragons. I moved aside my plate so I had a clear space before me and said. "Those are three placements, but Buckeye only needs to go up two more, not three." I expected Alderfly to have that look that said he did not believe me, though he would not admit it in words. Before he could respond to me, I outlined the flower pattern on the tablecloth and told him. "Look, if these flowers represent third, second, and first, then Buckeye is on this flower. Now this will be his new starting point. If he wants to get to first place, he must go up one, two placements." I illustrated everything I said with the flowers and my claw. Alderfly looked confused now, which I thought was an improvement from being downright dismissive of my lesson. I then told him. "If third place is where Buckeye is now, he only needs to go up one, two placements. One, two. To see how far he must go, do not count the flowers, count the spaces between them from third to first. There are only two spaces between all three of them."

I was silent for a few seconds because I wanted to know if he had any questions. Alderfly kept staring at the patterns and my claw with that confused face, then his eyes became almost as big as the dinner plates and he whispered. "Oh, I get it."

I was growing tired of the silences, so when another threatened to take over the whole table I said. "So Swallowtail, how was your day? Did anything special happen?"

After that everyone seemed to relax. It was strange, like that simple little lesson had put everyone in their place. Buckeye was happy enough that I had backed him up, and Alderfly looked humbled and embarrassed. He kept looking at the pattern of the tablecloth in a way that I now know to be his "calculating face." The table was almost cheery, and Alderfly was almost invisible aside from a little chuckle here or there.

We finished our meal and cleared the table. Once the dishes were cleaned and left-overs preserved – an act that confused Alderfly – my children put their homework on the table for us to work on. Helping them with their school was an important job of mine, and was one of the reasons why I offered Alderfly a place to stay with us instead of staying at the house with him. I was not going to choose him over my own children. I dedicated so much time to my masters, and I would not waste any time that I could have with my family. I still hold to that today.

Math was the top subject my children always brought me. I have always been good with numbers, so it made sense that I was their tutor. But I was taken by surprise when Alderfly quietly came up and watched us with that calculating face. We did not notice him beside us until Swallowtail turned to grab a piece of paper. He said nothing until we reached a problem that he thought he could solve, and he shared with us the method he had learned in his own school. There was nothing incorrect about the method, and he did it correctly, but it was slow and fancy. It was a very academic way of solving the problem. My line of work demands I be quick and efficient, and I had learned and developed ways to solve problems that satisfied that demand. I showed him the quick formula that my children and I used to solve the problem. He was unsure at first, but once he got the hang of it he could not deny it was better. After that we got him scraps of paper and he joined my children and me with the homework.

I believe that night and that tutoring lesson were very, very important for how he thinks now. That was the night that showed him many of the lies about SilkWings. We are not stupid or lesser dragons. We have the same essence as any HiveWings, and he has argued that with his father for years now. It's gotten him in trouble several times, but he is too stubborn to give it up. He is too much like Mistress Vespa.

Later that night I followed my wife into our room while the children cleaned up and organized their work. She asked me what happened and I told her. My wife is very protective of our children, but she has a lot of compassion too. She would neither forget nor forgive what Alderfly had done to our son and daughter, but she could not turn away someone who was in so much pain and so much a danger to himself. It helped that Aldefly showed humility though, because it told us that he had regret and could change. When we saw him around our children that night we caught signs that he was ashamed. He never said anything, but he saw my daughter's school bag and the rips that were on it. He had slashed it only a few days before, and when he saw it he looked away and to the ground.

Alderfly stayed the night, sleeping in a makeshift hammock my wife wove on the spot. I could tell he was awkward because he was used to sleeping pallets, but we had none at our home and the only alternative was the rug. The next morning I found him fast asleep in the hammock. Like every servant I am up and about right at dawn, which is earlier than what many HiveWings are used to. I gently woke him and asked if he would like to sleep in or come back to his home with me. He was not pleased at being woken up, but he also did not like the idea of being left behind with dragons that only had half the sympathy I did for him. We flew back to the house and he made his way to his own bed.

After that Alderfly never disrespected the servants again. He was distant from all of us at first, but eventually became comfortable enough that he could be in the same room as us, though he was usually silent. Over the next several weeks he stayed with us three more times because of his depression, and each time we all grew more tolerant of him. My wife even started talking to him, although she sounded stiff. My children never spoke to him unless he asked them something, and they would respond with very short words and never met his eye. I thought it was interesting that he would try to have conversation with them. After a month or so we found a brand-new school bag waiting outside our cell with a letter that read _Swallowtail_. It was a very nice bag, made of clean and smooth leather and had bright colors. A few days later there was another bag with a note that said _Buckeye_. It was of equal quality and also had bright colors, though different from the last bag. My children were excited at the idea that they had a mysterious admirer, but my wife and I knew who the gifts came from.

I had half expected the gifts, but nothing prepared me for when Alderfly visited us and asked for my children. We were not certain at first what he was planning to do, and a few of us were worried about some malice. But then he apologized to my children. He kept his eyes down, but his apology sounded sincere and practiced. He had been thinking about it for a while. We were all speechless, but my children eventually accepted his apology and he went home that day, relieved I think, and he did not come back for another week. Then he visited us and asked how we were, including details on my son's rankings – which he had increased by two placements since we last talked about it. My children and Alderfly were very awkward, but after a while they started talking more and seemed to forget that they had once been bully and victims. Ever since that day my children and Alderfly would visit one another in secret, so as not to catch the attention of Master Hornet or anyone else, and they have become close friends. I think all this helped Aldefly get out of his depression. By trying to make amends with his servants and in a way studying SilkWings, he had found himself a project. When his project was not enough to pull him away from sad memories, I was there to talk to him, and later on my children helped him as well.

I have great respect for Alderfly. He is so much like his mother when he looks between HiveWings and SilkWings. Whenever he needs help with his genealogy research I never hesitate to help, because that research could be the foundation to destroy the Queen and her servant's lies about SilkWings. That could be the first step to getting us rights.

I will say this last thing, when it comes to Alderfly. While he is very similar to his mother, there is one thing that makes him very different from her: his determination to act. I mean no disrespect to Mistress Vespa, for she was one of my favorite dragons, but she was too passive. She had hoped that by being an example she could change how SilkWings were viewed and treated, and there can be merit to her kindness and subtlety. But so long as Queen Wasp rules, no amount of delicacy will overthrow that one's lies and power. We need HiveWings like Alderfly, who are willing to shake things up within those ranks.


	2. Chapter 2: A HiveWing's Metamorphosis

My name is Alderfly, son of Mistress Vespa and Master Hornet, dignitaries of Mantis Hive under the banner of Red Brush. I have always been fascinated with science, wanting to follow in my mother's talonsteps since I was itty bitty; she studied various fauna in our region, and I wanted to be just like her. She liked that I wanted to be a scientist, but she insisted I explore other branches of the subject, just to make sure my passion wasn't in something like physics or epidemiology. She was cool like that. She never behaved like a stereotypical scientist; she was outgoing, loud, smiled as easily as the sun rises over the plains, and could make you feel like the most loved organism on the planet.

I noticed early on how she behaved around various dragons, especially around the house. She and my father were on opposite ends of the spectrum. He's your average status quo HiveWing, viewing our tribe as the strongest and holiest, thanks to our link to the almighty Clearsight. Mom, however, acted like there was no difference between HiveWings and SilkWings, and frankly she almost made you feel like there was no such thing as master and servant in Red Brush. She smiled and struck up conversation with anyone and everyone; my mother was a dadgum encyclopedia, capable of talking about anything from science and law to homelife and painting. It was fun to talk with her; it never felt boring or overdue to end, and several times servants almost got in trouble (from my father) because they lost track of time while talking with Mom.

Several times when my mother and I were alone, playing, drawing, reading, etc., she would tell me. "Sweetheart, no matter what anyone says, I want you to keep this in mind when you grow up." She'd put a wing over me and look towards any of the little servant doors throughout the house. "Where dragons are concerned, we are linked together on a fundamental level, even if we are different tribes. We have black scales, they have scales of every shade of the rainbow, and more. We have stingers, they have silk. We have teeth, and they only have beaks. But for all the long list of physical differences we have, those do not matter because they are overshadowed by the priceless qualities we have in common. We both have thought, compassion, and soul. HiveWings and SilkWings may look different, and are on uneven ground in society right now, but deep down we are all the same, and one day, hopefully soon, everyone will see that. I want you to be one of the first though."

I was between the ages of two and three when she told me this stuff, and being a little dragonet that was more interested in looking at cool animals and reading about their diets and behaviors, I didn't think much of what she told me. It wasn't until several months after she passed away that I really started to understand what she was trying to impress upon me. It wasn't until I was at my lowest, most miserable point, that my mind became open to the biggest change in how I viewed our society.

I won't lie. Looking back on how I was after she died, I was a monster. It was bad enough that I watched my mother slowly die of lung cancer, and wish all my future hatching day wishes that she would live. When all I wanted was to tell her that I loved her and say goodbye one last time, however, I was denied that by my own father. He said I was too young to see my mother as miserable as she was, but the way I saw it – and still see it – I should have been able to see her for one last time before losing her forever. I soon became a blistering ball of hatred. For two months I was obligated by tradition to eat with my father, and having to look at his disgusting face and listen to that nauseating voice that told me "I don't want you seeing your mother right now," for two days… Well, you could feel the heat building in my stomach if you put your talon over it. At night I would get so worked up that my head felt like a furnace, the pit of my stomach seared like acid, and I felt I needed to physically hold back my voice from just screaming as loud and for as long as possible. I tended to the latter most symptom by screaming into pillows until I cried. I wanted to tear out my father's eyes and teeth. I wanted to slowly bend his forelegs and wings out of their sockets. I wanted to grab him by the head and beat it against a stone until his brains made a macabre print of his skull. I couldn't do any of that though because I was a little guy, and to be frank, I was a little afraid of him too. So I targeted our SilkWing servants instead. I didn't see it as a big deal at the time; they were just SilkWing servants after all, so who cared? The added bonus was they couldn't fight back, so it was practically a no brainer for a stupid dragonet like me.

Gosh, I despise looking back at myself and what I did. If the servants accidentally made eye contact, I would yell at them to get back to work. I would belittle them, call them stupid, ugly, fat, anything I could think of to make them feel as small as possible. Some days I would make it my goal to get at least one servant to cry. I can only imagine how hard my mother would slap me if she knew what I had done.

My favorites to torment were dragonets, especially Swallowtail and Buckeye, who are ironically my best friends now. I'd always fly high above them, swoop down and smack them with my tail, and if they were wearing packs I would zoom passed and rake them with my talons. Once I even spat on Buckeye. If either one lost their temper and tried to come at me, I'd just fly higher and taunt them until they ran home. I was a nasty little piece of rhino scat, and I can only imagine how often they wanted to smash my skull against a rock.

For all I tried cheering myself up at the severe expense of others, it was never enough to outweigh my depression and anger. I started getting into a cycle. In the morning I'd be angry, lash out at anyone until I was at school, where I'd contain myself a little more. At school I was surrounded by equals, so while I still pushed others around some, I had to risk being pushed back, which was not something a miserable dragonet wants to put up with when there are easier targets. I'd go home, put up with eating with my father whose presence would rejuvenate my hatred, and I would stay up tormenting our servants until they left, which was when I would face something almost as bad as my father: trying to go to sleep. By that point my insides felt like nothing put a pile of ash and charred wood, and it was in those moments, when I had nobody to interact with and nothing to do, that I'd become a husk.

There are few things like truly feeling empty. We can talk about being sad about something, but depression is a different animal altogether. Sad is where you feel distressed, you react to something with tears and/or outrage, but after a few days you might get over it for the most part. Depression is where you feel nothing but an ache where emotion is supposed to be. You lie on your bed feeling like a turtle shell; an outer casing too heavy to justify doing anything but mope, but crack it open and a puff of dusty air is all that escapes. It was odd, because for all I felt like nothing but a shell, it was an experience I dreaded every single day. All I could think about was that my mother was gone forever, I hadn't been allowed to say goodbye to her, and of all the dragons to go on living it was my father, who was despicable and made me debate murder. I was so tired by that point in the day – or night I should say – that my anger couldn't go up full strength like in the morning; I was almost literally too exhausted to be angry. Then I would remember that I had to get up the next day and go through the cycle all over again, and that made me feel even more tired. As drained as I felt though, I couldn't go to sleep because I just couldn't stop thinking about the things that made me depressed.

Yeah, it was a bad cycle, and I didn't see myself getting out of it any time soon. I didn't have anyone to help me, and I was too busy pushing others around to admit that I needed help, though I didn't know if I really wanted it.

One day I just cracked. I don't know why, but I started looking through one of the books my mother and I would read together. I got to a page that talked about anteaters, of all things, which was significant because I remembered laughing so hard at how goofy they looked, and my mom tried to explain something about them but couldn't because she started laughing too hard as well. When our laughter allowed us to talk, my mom exemplified how anteaters ate by abruptly sticking her tongue way out and tapping me on the head, which renewed our giggling. It was such a dumb memory, but it was also a really happy moment, and the cold hard fact that I would never relive any variation of it was absolutely crushing. I began to cry really hard, grabbed a pillow so I could keen without causing too much ruckus, then just laid there on the floor sobbing until my ribs felt ready to break. That's when I decided to test something very drastic. In school I had heard of dragonets cutting themselves for some sort of release, and it sounded bizarre at first, but when I was lying on the floor feeling the worst I had been since Mom died, I was willing to try anything to stop the pain.

I stayed there for at least fifteen minutes before getting up and finding a quiet, private place. It was late evening, dinner had already been served, and I knew most of the servants had left; I figured nobody would be in the storage chambers, which were conveniently adjacent to the kitchen. There was one servant in the kitchen cleaning up, and I snuck passed to grab a knife. I didn't stay to be picky about my choice; I just grabbed the first thing that wasn't a cleaver and got out. I had been holding back tears the whole time, but once I put myself in the farthest corner of the storage chamber, I let the tears fall. It took a few minutes to muster the courage to make the first cut; the notion of self-harm wasn't something I had explored in-depth, and my brain was still in an avoid-physical-discomfort mode. I sat there thinking about why I was crying in the first place though, and then finally put the blade to my wrist and sliced it through those scales and flesh.

Boy did it hurt.

I yelped and dropped the knife to hold my wrist, trying to lessen the bleeding (which was more than I expected). The pain was intense, the air and my own talon made the flesh sting, and when I squeezed the wound for several seconds it began to throb. It definitely distracted me from my emotional turmoil, and for a split second I was grateful for that, though I didn't feel an immediate urge to go back for seconds. I sat there, trying to stop the bleeding and just being caught up in the pain; without anything there to clean the wound the sting never really went away and the throbbing didn't lessen. It's frightening looking back on it, and how I perceived it as effective. Sure, I didn't jump back for another cut, but after several minutes of tending the wound I began to feel a relief, an eerie reprieve from the pain I had been suffering. It was almost as if it were refreshing to suffer from something new.

Cutting has sinister effects on vulnerable individuals, and I am eternally thankful that I didn't get sucked into it. In droves, I give my gratitude to Viceroy for catching me that day.

I sat until I started to cry again, my breakdown still having the tiniest grip on me, and I finally picked the knife back up. It wasn't terribly sharp, which no doubt contributed to the massive discomfort, and I debated calling one cut good and leaving. I had that idea, however, that I should make just one more before going upstairs again; I wanted the effects to last as long as possible, especially when I got back in my room. So, I took a few seconds to prepare, then, like jumping fully into a freezing body of water, I made the second cut. I yelped again but didn't drop the knife, and just sat breathing and squeezing my wounds.

I suddenly heard a gasp, and I looked up to see Viceroy staring at me with the most shocked, horrified expression I had ever seen on him. I don't know why I didn't shout at him then; it was such a habit, and he had caught me in the most vulnerable state a dragonet could be in. Instead, I was frozen to the spot, clutching the knife and compelled to try and explain what was happening in a don't-worry-about-it fashion, but no words could climb out of my throat. Before I could even do anything, Viceroy moved towards me like he was afraid I'd bolt, and slowly took the knife away from me and set it on a shelf I couldn't easily reach, keeping eye contact the entire time. I don't quite know what it was about his eyes that immobilized me. I think it was because I saw he possessed sympathy for me, which nobody had offered me in months, and after spending so much time being hated, it was profound to look at someone who acted like they cared.

All over again I started to break down, and Viceroy continued to shock me by stepping over and hugging me, holding me tight like my mother used to. In that moment, to feel compassion from someone and the catharsis of crying into someone's chest while they held me, was beyond anything I had gotten from cutting myself. We were like this for I have no idea how long, but eventually Viceroy asked me why I was cutting myself, and I gave him a synopsis that amounted to "I hate everything!" We talked for a little while after that while he bandaged me up, mostly him telling me that my mom wouldn't want me hurting myself, which I figured was an accurate assumption. Towards the end, I realized he might leave, and the idea of being left in my room alone for yet another night was horrifying, especially after I had just received some much needed affection. I told him I didn't want to be alone, and he – perhaps hesitantly – invited me to his home, which was a very unexpected offer that made me pause. I thought it would be a little embarrassing to be seen going to a SilkWing servant's home, and if I had been thinking clearly I would have realized I could've ordered Viceroy to stay. After everything that had been going though, I was definitely not thinking clearly, and me needing to be with someone outweighed any potential humiliation I might endure. So I agreed to go to his home.

The journey felt like forever, though I wasn't terribly concerned with it because I was caught up in what I had just agreed to. I was going to a SilkWing's home, one of the lowly classes. What would it be like? Did Viceroy have a big family? Had he told them what I was like? That was when I started feeling guilty for how I treated the SilkWings around the house, and I tried to come up with strategies to figure out how to avoid any awkwardness. I soon discovered that avoiding awkwardness was an absolute impossibility though, because that was the day I learned that Buckeye and Swallowtail were Viceroy's kids. You can only imagine how I felt when Viceroy suddenly called them over and explained what was going on, and then being under their furious eyes, which I could not bring myself to meet with my own. That's when the journey _really_ felt like it was taking forever.

It didn't end there. Getting to the house, I was immediately under the judgmental gaze of Viceroy's wife, Ruby Tiger; I wanted to edge towards Viceroy, but I suddenly felt a coldness from him, so I stayed back. I was regretting my decision and getting nervous, and the thought of them getting revenge on me crossed my mind a few times, but eventually Viceroy took me to their little book corner, then got the family busy making dinner. It was then that I actually looked around and realized how tiny the house was. I knew SilkWing homes were small, but it was a nebulous concept that never garnered much deep thought from me; being inside a SilkWing's home, however, dissipated that nebulous concept to reveal a shocking truth. Looking back, I can only shake my head; I shouldn't have been surprised.

Dinner was served, and for a while it went about like you'd expect: silent and stiff. I had already eaten two hours or so prior, but I was too nervous to turn down the meal, so I got myself small portions of anything I could reach. It's funny how I forgot that I was technically the master there; you forget the usual status quo when you're surrounded by dragons that pretty much hate you. I did my best to be invisible, and was very thankful when Viceroy tried to get conversation going with Buckeye, asking him how his day was.

This was where my view of SilkWings began to shift in a significant direction.

Buckeye brought up that he had gotten third place in some school race, and Viceroy was really proud of him, like a father should be, and said. "Ah that's fantastic! How hard did you fight for it?"

I couldn't see Buckeye because he was square behind his father, but I could tell by his voice that he was smiling; it occurred to me then that I had never seen him smile. "It wasn't easy, Admiral and Morpho got lazy and tripped up, almost literally. Towards the end I had to push myself because Spicebrush had a greater lead, but I passed her at the last second!"

Viceroy laughed and playfully hit his son on the back. "Good job! It shouldn't take long now for you to get first, eh?"

Buckeye was really excited now; I felt more like a fly on the wall than an intruder. "Yeah, only two more ranks to go!"

This was where my nature got me. I was that annoying dragonet that always corrected dragons, and that had not changed in those dark months (though I was way more smug about it). For some reason I couldn't count that night, and because everyone was saying "third place," I was thinking "third, second, first," still including Buckeye's advancement instead of seeing that as his starting place, which would have been zero. Between the hole in my brain that prevented me from calculating properly and my habit of piping up the "right" answers, I suddenly blurted out. "No, wait, you need to go up three places."

The mood changed in a nanosecond, and the horrifying possibility of getting dogpiled was returning to my anxious dragonet mind. I wanted nothing more than to evaporate from existence, and almost suggested that I leave, but then Viceroy said. "No, Buckeye is right; he only needs to go up two placements,"

I found myself torn. On one talon, I thought, I could just let them go on thinking they were right, which would avoid conflict but leave me feeling weak, or I could very, very respectfully insist my answer. I decided on the latter option.

Raising my claws to illustrate what I meant, I said. "Third, second, first. That's three placements."

Suddenly I saw a spark in Viceroy's eye. At first I thought it was anger, and started regretting my stubbornness, but then he pushed his plate aside and replied in an engaging tone. "Those are three placements, but Buckeye only needs to go up two more." Before I could say anything, I was sucked into a math lesson with my head servant, using the tablecloth as the blackboard. "Look, if these flowers represent third, second, and first, then Buckeye is on this flower. Now this is his new starting point, and if he wants to get to first place, he needs to go up one, two placements." For a split second my jerkish side arose and was haughty that my servant was trying to tell me how to do math, but the way he explained and illustrated what he was saying grabbed me. There was a little shred of doubt in my argument, but I didn't know why I should doubt my own calculation; his lecture hadn't quite broke through my thick skull. "If third place is where Buckeye is now, he only has to go up one, two placements. One, two. To see how far he has to go, do not count the flowers, count the spaces between them from third to first. There are only two spaces between all of them."

It was the tail end of his explanation that resonated with me, made that doubt foreshadow a revelation, and when I focused on the spaces between the flowers on the tablecloth, it hit me like a hammer. Once again, only doing so half consciously, I blurted. "Oh, I get it,"

Then, before anything else could be said about the subject, Viceroy turned to Swallowtail and asked her about her day, moving the conversation forward and away from the awkward math lesson.

I was definitely embarrassed at being wrong over something so simple, and I felt an angry coal light in my stomach at being corrected, but I was too caught up in what just happened. Dinner was finished and everyone was cleaning the table. I had a moment of debating whether I should join in this or not (which I wasn't eager to do), but once again Viceroy saved me by guiding me back to the book corner. Once they were finished, Buckeye and Swallowtail started pulling out their homework, and Viceroy sat and helped them. Once I saw that it was math, I had the compulsion to redeem myself from dinner, so I moseyed over to see what equations they were doing. I discovered it was algebra, and in a similar phase where I was in my school. They let me watch, and when there was an equation that's formula I had down pat, I asked if I could try solving it, which Viceroy allowed. I did the equation and turned it over to Viceroy, a little part of me starting to feel smug because I knew I had it right, and I had the audacity to think that I was really helping Buckeye and Swallowtail.

Viceroy looked over my work, then nodded and said. "This is the answer. But, before we move on, let me show you all what I use to solve things like this."

I was deflated, but then Viceroy showed us his formula. I was almost baffled. His formula replaced two steps in my own with one method that made solving the equation take half the time. There was a part of me that wanted to be mad at being schooled by a SilkWing, but I couldn't get over the formula; it was undeniably better than what my teachers had shown me.

The next day Viceroy took me back home (at an awful, awful hour in the morning), but before we left I made sure to swipe my papers from the night's math lesson. Leaving that little cell with my servant's formula made me feel like I was smuggling out a valuable treasure. Later that day, I used the formula on my math homework, and received an A+ from my teacher. I was surprised, not because I'm bad at math and was finally getting As, but because Viceroy's formula was consistent and effective. My brain chewed on this "phenomenon" that my SilkWing servant, the tribe that was naturally inferior according to my friends, teachers, public officials, and father, had a superior formula that HiveWing schools either didn't know about or would not teach.

I then remembered what my mother said. "…_ for all the long list of physical differences we have, those do not matter because they are overshadowed by the priceless qualities we have in common. We both have thought, compassion, and soul_…"

It struck me how significant that day was that Viceroy saved me. He did not help me out of a sense of duty (at least not necessarily), but out of compassion; he had compassion for a nasty HiveWing that had treated him and his children like dirt. I don't know many dragons that would have done that aside from my mother. Then there was the consistency at which Viceroy helped me; he didn't just give me a hug for that day and leave me to figure out stuff, but instead made sure to continue guiding me through my grief. I hadn't encountered many HiveWings that would have done that, and to this day that number has only increased minimally.

After that night, I couldn't bring myself to be a bully anymore. I was still snappy sometimes, but I didn't call anyone names or push them around; instead, I worked to amend what I had done. After remembering what my mother said with a better understanding of what she meant, I realized how horrified she would be if she knew what I had done, and that thought made my snout burn. I started staying out of my servants' way as an almost passive aggressive apology, though on occasions I'd give them a day off if my father wasn't around (I considered Father being absent worthy of celebration). Buckeye and Swallowtail were different though; I had vandalized some of their stuff, mostly their bags, so after a while I worked up the money to get them both well made replacements.

I returned to Viceroy's house twice at that point, and they continued to treat me well. Ruby Tiger started talking to me now and then, and I had some conversations with Swallowtail and Buckeye, though they were always brief and the two would shy away. That always made me feel guiltier, and eventually my conscience ate away at my need to be anonymous. I started imagining my mother looking at everything I had done, look at me and say with a stern face that broke my heart. "Alderfly, you need to apologize to them."

It was hard getting myself to do that. Going up to the dragons I had treated like dirt, opening up with how sorry I was, and giving them the opportunity to reject me was gut wrenching. Not to mention, it's just difficult to be the one to apologize about major mistakes; when something happens that effects dragons in a significant, negative way, nobody wants to step up and take responsibility. To admit I had committed a wrong and expose myself to being rejected was intimidating and humiliating, but that picture in my head of Mom's frown was too much for me to ignore. I summoned the courage to apologize to Buckeye and Swallowtail.

I still remember flying to their home, rehearsing my apology over and over again like I had the night before and all throughout the school day. I imagined them glaring and shrugging at me, giving me snarky comments, and anything else I could imagine dragonets my age doing to the one who had tormented them for months. When I saw Viceroy's house I suddenly felt like my stomach was caught in a magnetic field, trying to pull me away from his home, but just shook my head and kept going.

I landed and approached the house like I was sneaking up on a gazelle, though I did not feel like a powerful predator. Ruby Tiger was the one who answered when I knocked, and I felt my stomach flip. I had hoped for Viceroy since I was more familiar with him and he tended to be more laid back; I always felt Ruby Tiger was on the verge of judgement whenever she looked at me, and one wrong word could ruin my chances for the rest of time.

Still, I gave what I thought was a polite smile. "Hi, Ruby Tiger, are Buckeye and Swallowtail home?"

For a split second her eyes narrowed, and I felt my stomach shrivel when she asked. "Why do you ask?"

I hadn't expected resistance, so my voice was small when I said. "Um, well, I wanted to talk to them for a minute."

I had thought I was on better ground with Ruby Tiger after three visits and being as humble as I possibly could, but it was then that I realize how much effort it had taken in the past to treat me more hospitably. She didn't want to just hand her children over, and she was screening me to gauge whether I was up to no good.

She stared at me hard, but then turned and called for Buckeye and Swallowtail; I noted that she was not inviting me into the house. At this point Viceroy had come over and was looking at me with curious eyes. I heard Buckeye and Swallowtail trotting through the house, and my heart seemed to match their rapid pace. They peeked around their mother, and I got to see their eyes shift from curious to dread, which made my heart wilt; I prepared to be rejected.

It took me a moment to find my voice, but when I did I could only find a buffer word. "Uh, hey."

They didn't meet my eye when they replied. "Hey,"

Their quiet, halfhearted greeting incapacitated my ability to look at them, and my eyes were drawn to the ground as I began my apology. "Um... I wanted to say that I'm sorry for how I treated you guys. It was wrong and mean, and I shouldn't have done it. I promise to never hurt you guys again."

There was complete silence, and my stomach felt ready to shatter under the pressure of my anxiety. I almost didn't want to look, but my curiosity drove me to peek at their faces; I thought I had misread what I thought I saw, so I looked back again. Every single one of them was staring at me with unblinking shock, like I had just told them I had set a Hive on fire. Seeing them all so flabbergasted made a part of me want to laugh (especially looking at Ruby Tiger), but my jitters kept any mirth from producing more than a ripple in my belly.

After what felt like a day, Buckeye was the first to speak. "Uh, okay,"

I felt rather deflated, because while I was relieved they didn't spit in my face, it was also anticlimactic given how much tossing and turning I had done the night before planning this out.

Swallowtail saved it, however, by giving a nod and saying. "Thank you for your apology,"

Her brother's eyes darted at her and, no doubt wanting to be outdone by his sister, he added. "Yeah, yeah thanks."

I nodded, feeling relief wash over my bones and shoulders. "Okay, thank - uh, I mean... okay, well I should probably head off, see you later,"

And right as they added their awkward goodbyes, I bowed my head and turned back, feeling lighter than I had in months.

This started a domino effect, however, as I realized I couldn't just apologize to Buckeye and Swallowtail but ignore all my servants. So, one by one I summoned them to a private office and gave each a personal apology. Most looked confused and nodded, giving a stiff "thank you" and a quiet sigh of relief when they left. A minority actually gave me small smiles and accepted my apology with a less awkward demeanor, saying they understood that I was grieving, albeit in the most toxic way imaginable. Then, there were those that took my apology with open distrust, simply grunting a thanks and asking if that was all. The latter group cut me deep; after Swallowtail and Buckeye, I had thought in my naïve brain that an apology could mend anything. Those servants believed in actions over words, but I obliged them on that front nevertheless.

That was the beginning of my enlightenment. My mother had shown me the existence of a doorway that led to an ignored reality and a possible future, but it was ultimately Viceroy, and later on other SilkWings, that opened the door and shoved me through it. I am grateful for that though, because I would rather be embarrassed of my past but be aware of that reality than continue like a fool thinking I was all special because I have black stripes and checkers around my neck and hide. If I had continued thinking that way too, I wouldn't have some of the amazing friends that I do right now, not the least of which being Buckeye and Swallowtail.

I was still a science nerd at that point, and after graduating from dragonet school, I found my calling: being a doctor. This satisfied two major fronts. The first was being able to help others, something I wanted to do once I was back on all fours again. The second was allowing me to study HiveWings and SilkWings, side by side, and determine the real differences and similarities between our tribes. I knew they were on par with us in terms of intelligence and emotion, but now I wanted to back it up with blood and genes. I wanted to see if we really did have as many physical differences as our scales, horns, wings, and antenna (or lack there of) would imply, and make a foundation for an undeniable, scientific argument on why SilkWings are equal to HiveWings. I wanted to shatter the lies my teachers tried to engrain in me, and my journey to that goal would take me on a flight I could never have dreamed of.

But that's another story.


	3. Chapter 3: A Smack of Reality

**Author's note: Ok! Here is a fresh chapter from Alderfly's perspective. I understand that the previous one was likely lack luster due to being essentially the same story but from a different perspective, and I apologize for that. Let me know what you think of this chapter, good or bad.**

Graduating Far Lake University, a medical school at my home, Mantis Hive, was one of the greatest challenges I had ever conquered. It wasn't just the studying, which made dragonet school look like a vacation, but also the torment I piled on myself because I never could keep my mouth shut. If I could sum up my attendance in Far Lake in one metaphorical image, it would be me in a giant lecture hall yelling at a horde of pompous dragons that insisted I was an idiot. The cherry on top of this image, was that I was behaving and saying the exact same things to them.

By the time I arrived at the university, I was pumped up on righteous ambition, thinking this was where I was going to begin changing my Hive. This was where I was going to change how dragons thought of one another, primarily where SilkWings were concerned. Like most adults when looking back on themselves, I cringe when I think of that young dragon. I had spent so much time fighting with dragons like my father that I didn't know how to fashion arguments in a way that got others to stop and consider. I shouted to reach everyone in the room, my tone was haughty and all-knowing, and my head was held high not with confidence, but arrogance. Needless to say, I ruined first impressions for most, which resulted in three, lonely years of school. You would think after three years of being in endless, cut-throat arguments (all of which I lost on account of popularity), I would learn to calm down and approach the rest of my life with a different stance.

Nah-ah. I remained aggressive, thinking that my ferocity would be rewarded with discernable progress. Some, namely Viceroy, tried reasoning that if I curbed my temper and tone then I would probably attain better reception, but I was convinced otherwise.

Upon leaving my university, I became an apprentice (a glorified nurse) at my local infirmary, training to be a surgeon. In order to become a doctor in any Hive, one must undergo a minimum of three years in medical school, then spend at least one year of talons-on training under a licensed doctor. In my case, I was under Doctor Andrena. She was a self-important dragon, sure of herself and her ability, and regarded anyone who disagreed with her with patient condescension. For the most part she was a decent teacher, albeit infuriating to take instruction from. However, I did not learn that until much later after my enrollment with her because of… well, bad first impressions.

I was proud of the research I had conducted on SilkWings and HiveWings, and being a proud, arrogant and young medical student, I brought it up now and then at work. Doctor Andrena, being a proud, arrogant and licensed doctor, very naturally refuted my research and evidence, which led to arguments. I had never dealt with anyone like her when it came to verbal sparring. In Far Lake, I had tackled professors and students alike in lecture halls that interrupted, raised their voices, and talk alongside each other like their lives depended on it. Name calling was also prevalent at Far Lake, which was funny because everyone kept talking about how much more mature university was from dragonet school. Regardless, Doctor Andrena was nothing like that. She never interrupted, rarely raised her voice beyond loud talking, and never once outright called me an imbecile or liar. She would say I was misinformed, naïve, or had made mistakes in my analyses, but she never insisted I had a rock in my skull.

I remember one argument I had in particular with her about SilkWings.

She was shaking her dark orange head with a grimace, looking down her glasses at a report from a patient. "Alderfly, I really think you are leading yourself on. I don't know why you are so insistent on SilkWings being equals to HiveWings, but I feel certain you're finding things that aren't actually there."

I was restraining the urge to pound my talon on the counter I was next to, though my teeth were beginning to grate. "Then why do I keep finding stuff that says SilkWings and HiveWings are, biologically speaking, on even ground?"

Doctor Andrena looked up from the report with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Like what?"

I paused, trying to think of something simple and, as I saw it, completely indisputable. An idea hit me, and I dug out my notepad and flipped to a clean page. "Alright. Let's take blood and think of it as ink." I dipped my claw in the little portable inkbottle and wrote "SilkWing" and "HiveWing" on the page. "Here, we have two groups of it. The only difference between them is that each spells a different word, but aside from that it's all still ink! There's nothing magical about the ink that spells "HiveWing;" they even have the same number of freaking letters! They're three out of eight letters away from being the same."

The doctor watched me and the ink while I talked, and when I finished she chuckled with that "ah, you're so adorable," tone before saying. "This is a very… interesting analogy, but we both know that blood is a little more complicated than this, and you're also overlooking a massive flaw in your argument: the words _are_ what matter. What the ink spells is, in great part, what defines which one is better."

Her calm tone was so convincing I almost thought she had a point, but before I could shake myself out of shocked silence and scream. "That's not how science works!" She suddenly shoved that report into my talons and said. "Now, I need you to tend to Crane Fly; that rash under her scales is acting up again. That there is her information with all the new details she gave the nurse. Get to it."

Then without even looking back, she left me in the room with two other apprentices, who just snickered at me fuming on the spot. One of them, an individual named Darkling who enjoyed poking cysts, said. "You know, you should probably just listen to the actual licensed doctor, instead of your homebrew science projects."

He and the other trainee ducked out of the room before I could set them on fire, leaving me to contain my overblown temper while I tended to Crane Fly's allergies.

Doctor Andrena was a noteworthy surgeon in Mantis Hive who primarily worked on HiveWings; any SilkWings that required surgery she would essentially use as practice dummies for apprentices. While I was thankful to get talons-on experience, her blatant tribalism angered me to no end. I mused that it was almost ironic that she insisted that SilkWings were biologically inferior to HiveWings, but apparently were similar enough to be remarkably accurate "dummies."

I had operated on two SilkWings (one with a benign tumor near the heart, and another with an abnormally large kidney stone), but she hadn't considered me ready enough to practice on HiveWings. This was insulting, because the other four apprentices I was working alongside had already tried their talons on members of our own tribe. I suspected her favoritism was rooted in our arguments about SilkWings, but I was too stubborn to just shut up and keep my head down. I had the audacity to think that if I had enough outstanding surgeries under my wings, she wouldn't have any choice but to license me due to my skill, regardless of what I thought or said. I made the mistake of thinking that, because she was a doctor, she would see the big picture and the damage that might be caused by holding back a good surgeon. Amazing how a straight As student like me could still be about as bright as a cotton ball.

It was when Doctor Andrena made an exception with SilkWings that reality slapped me across the snout.

A father came in with his daughter, Glasswing, where he told us that one of her wing buds was acting strange. She was a glorious golden-yellow, like the sun had dropped a bead of sweat that took the form of a SilkWing. She was nervous because she was estimated to be two weeks from Metamorphosis, and her wing bud had been sore for the last two days; now it was outright hurting to the touch. I examined her, thinking it could be one of a few maladies that could be treated easily, but I got close enough to the wing bud to smell it. When I detected rot, I had to refrain from grimacing. She had laminae corrupta.

It is a rare condition that's name means something like "corrupted petal." You see, all throughout a SilkWing's life up to Metamorphosis, their wings are already developing in their wing buds. Metamorphosis isn't necessarily where the wings are made; in fact, roughly 85% of a SilkWing's wing is present before they hit the cocoon. How does all that big wing fit in an itty-bitty sack? Well, the wing membrane is primarily what's fully developed, and while in the bud it is incredibly thin and folded in on itself a bazillion times over. There are also splinters of bone present throughout key portions of the membrane, and these will quickly start growing and connecting once the SilkWing is in his or her cocoon. Laminae corrupta is a condition where those bone splinters get ahead of themselves and start pressing too hard against veins in the wing membrane. Sure enough, circulation is cut off in that part of the membrane and it dies; when this happens, it rots and puts not just the rest of the dragonet's wing in jeopardy, but also the dragonet's life due to infection. To make matters worse, few will conduct a surgery to fix laminae corrupta because the success rate is so low. There is so much involved with slicing open the bud and shimmying around an intricate flesh origami (that needs to be put back afterwards), that doctors say it's better to just remove the entire thing.

This was the first serious condition I had to relay to a patient; the worst prior to this had been some benign tumors and a liver that needed replacing. As much as I wanted to go easy on them, I've never been one to sugar coat what I find. I told Glasswing and her father the problem, and they reacted like you'd expect: both were very quiet and their eyes were filled with dread, no doubt envisioning all the worst scenarios. They asked if anything could be done to fix it, and I told them that that would depend on the head surgeon, Doctor Andrena. A surgery could only be conducted if Doctor Andrena wanted to do it, and she technically had every right to deny Glasswing any option but to remove the entire wing bud.

My hopes that Doctor Andrena would attempt to remove the rotten membrane were low, and I braced myself to watch the corner of her mouth hitch up in a grimace and shake her head. I found her in one of the rooms gathering what she needed for a patient. Not wanting to wait, I informed her of Glasswing's condition, and to my surprise Doctor Andrena actually stopped and stared off into the distance. I was blown away; she was actually considering it. With caution my hopes climbed passed the surface of my gloom, then skyrocketed when she turned and asked me what room Glasswing was in. She went straight to it (apparently her current patient wasn't top priority), and spent at least ten minutes talking with the SilkWing family. I stood next to her flabbergasted as she agreed to conduct a surgery to save the dragonet's wing.

Everyone left the infirmary in better spirits; Glasswing and her father had hope, and Doctor Andrena and I were excited. Surgeries on laminae corrupta were so rare that most medical books only mentioned the condition in passing. This was something we could do not just to help a dragonet (which was still a motivator for me), but to use as a reputation boost. The documentation of the operation alone would turn heads, and I trusted Doctor Andrena to be competent enough that what we ended up writing about would bring us pride.

I went home that day and immediately sought after Viceroy. At this point he was my adopted father, and I told him almost everything significant in my life. I explained what had happened and why it was so important; I confessed to being nervous and excited all at the same time, and I never stopped smiling or pacing in the room. Viceroy's expression never changed, and I was disappointed to see that he looked neither happy nor curious; he actually looked grim.

When I took a breath telling him how grueling the experience would be, he looked at me, almost stern, and said. "Are you sure your head doctor will actually do the surgery right?"

I was taken aback; I had seen Doctor Andrena perform numerous surgeries that varied in difficulty, and she had been precise and efficient. Judging from Viceroy's tone, however, it sounded like he thought she would be frivolous.

I nodded my head with a frown. "Of course. She's a good doctor, and it's bad business to make any mistakes in the medical field, especially where surgery is concerned."

My adopted father grimaced as he replied. "Where HiveWings are concerned. SilkWings though… I suspect the margin for error is wider, and not in a good way."

I felt my brows and snout flatten as the weight of his words sunk in. I shook my head though. "This is one of the most difficult procedures in existence. Doctor Andrena is ambitious and arrogant, and she knows that the boost in her reputation would be damaged if she botched the surgery. I think she'll put quite a bit of concentration into making sure her performance is pristine."

Viceroy's look did not soften, and my heart wilted when he only replied. "I hope that is the case."

My spirits were dampened that night, and I lay awake for hours, pondering whether Doctor Andrena would take the surgery as seriously as possible. I felt doubt creep into my belly as I recalled how dismissive she was of the few SilkWing patients she bothered tending to. She was not necessarily cold to them, but she certainly exuded an attitude that she had more important tasks at talon. I wanted to shake all that doubt away and insist that her ego would outweigh her prejudice, at least for this surgery that required the utmost skill. Surely, she would want to perform with flying colors both to satisfy herself and to brag about to other doctors. Right?

The operation took place three days later. Glasswing came alone because her parents were working and couldn't attend; I pitied her as she looked and moved around with open apprehension. She was scared, and I did not blame her: we did not hide from her the difficulties that came with the operation, and I could only imagine being alone walking into such an ordeal. I did my best to comfort her, smiling and chatting with her to keep her mind off whatever horrors she was envisioning. It was difficult because she was not the talkative type, though I think she was also just taken aback by with being in a light conversation with a HiveWing; it was something that rarely happened to most SilkWings. Then, after thirty minutes of prep, we took her to the table, sedated her, and began the operation.

It went from a concise procedure to an absolute nightmare.

There were four of us total: Doctor Andrena, a veteran nurse, Darkling, and myself. I had wrist stingers that actually made one's body go numb (a huge leg up in the medical field), so I was working anesthesia, sedation, and monitoring vitals; the nurse was there as an extra set of talons for Doctor Andrena, and Darkling was working the moisture pump and tool sanitization. We needed a consistent flow of moisture in the air so the wings would not dry out, which made handling tools an endeavor in terms of precision.

Everyone was performing fine until halfway through Glasswing's membrane being drawn out and unfolded, which was when Doctor Andrena underestimated the tissue's fragility. She had shifted through the folds until we could see the dark mass of dead tissue, and she pulled the membrane just a little too hard in her eagerness to get to the rot. There was the faintest sound of a tear, and we stared at the obvious split in the membrane.

I expected Doctor Andrena to curse and mark it for mending, but instead she simply said. "Whoops," And returned to reaching the dead flesh.

Darkling snickered and the nurse and I were quiet. I glanced at the nurse, hoping she would give some indication of disapproval, but her snout was deadpan like nothing had happened.

I was so shocked I couldn't speak, and it wasn't until Doctor Andrena lifted the last fold to the rot that I finally said. "That needs to be marked for mending,"

Doctor Andrena did not detach her eyes from the procedure and just shook her head. "No, it's minor. It should heal between now and her Metamorphosis."

My stomach went cold and my head began to ring with Viceroy's words. "_SilkWings though… I suspect the margin for error is wider, and not in a good way_."

The chill in my belly began bouncing around as panic, and I said. "No, we need to mend it to be sure. The edges could twist away from each other and enlarge the tear as the membrane continues to grow,"

The doctor paused in reaching for a scalpel and laid hard eyes on me. Her tone was implicative when she said. "The tear is small, Alderfly. The patient will be fine."

My tail twitched and I looked back to audit the wound's size, but it was buried under several folds of pinkish yellow membrane. I gritted my teeth, unable to think of a retort that would get my superior to listen to me. I knew she was being careless, focused too much on the rot – which was larger than anyone wanted it to be. Then came cutting out the rot, to which Doctor Andrena used the laziest method of removal; she made a massive incision, half of which included flesh that was not corrupted.

I was so appalled I was stuttering, something I had almost never done in my life. "Wha – tha – k – a – that – that's too much! Y-you're, you're, you're taking too much healthy tissue,"

This time everyone looked at me: Darkling wide-eyed and eager for drama, the nurse in shock, and Doctor Andrena possessing an open glare.

Several breaths were taken before the doctor hissed at me. "If I cut too close to the rot, there is risk of bacteria from the rot getting on the incision. This is to make sure that doesn't happen."

I looked at her like she was crazy – far from an intelligent move – and said. "That's still too much! It shouldn't be more than an inch or so, this is -,"

"Alderfly, if you don't like my methods, I can get Darkling to do your job," The doctor's tone was sharp like the scalpel she wielded, and I could tell Darkling was smirking behind his mask.

I wanted to argue, to call her out on her disregard for the patient, but I didn't want to leave Glasswing alone with them. I didn't trust Darkling with the job of monitoring her vitals and maintaining the anesthesia (which would never be as effective as my own).

I watched her shred Glasswing's membrane for the next ten minutes. It was agonizing to watch, to know that I could have done better but was powerless to step in and do the job. Doctor Andrena was tossing the cut membrane into a pile that had too much pink for what it was, and it eventually was so bad I forced myself to look away. I didn't want to continue measuring how much good tissue was being stripped. Already it looked like over a quarter of the wing had been cut away, and while the infection had made extensive ground, it didn't warrant the doctor removing as much as she was. And she wasn't finished cutting.

After several eons of this, Doctor Andrena moved to the strenuous task of folding the wing back up, positioning the bones in a fashion that wouldn't do any more damage. This took three times longer than it did to unfold the wing, which was just shy of five hours. I looked at the tiny shadows in the membrane that were the bone splinters; the biggest ones were a sixth the size of my claw. I couldn't help but wonder how the doctor would arrange the membrane so those bones didn't block veins, and I scrutinized every swath she folded. She carefully pushed the folded up wing back inside the bud – an impressive feat, to be frank – and within five minutes had the bud sewn shut.

Glasswing was taken to recovery, and the rest of us cleaned up and put tools in bins to be sanitized. I was fuming, and I planned to sit at my locker to cool off before tending to my normal duties, but Doctor Andrena suddenly called me to her office. I joined her without uttering a word and keeping my flaming eyes down, but this did not last long. I discovered I wasn't the only one whose blood was boiling.

She did not get behind her desk; she just closed the door and rounded on me with eyes forged from a volcano. "What are you?"

I frowned in confusion and replied. "What?"

Doctor Andrena's tail suddenly smacked a cheap ornament off a shelf, shattering it on the floor and she bared her teeth at me. "WHAT ARE YOU IN THIS INFIRMARY?"

I was stunned, unable to do anything but gape for several seconds, which nearly cost me. I saw her inhaling for another scream, and I interjected. "I-I'm a doctor's apprentice,"

Her tail whipped from side to side, and the spines on her neck and back started trembling. "What am I?"

I was ensnared, unable to blink or look away; I had never seen her this angry – no, wrathful – and it was the scariest thing I had ever encountered. "The doctor,"

Her eyes looked on the verge of dripping magma, and she half shouted. "You had the nerve to question me, the actual doctor, when you are just an apprentice! DO YOU THINK YOU KNOW MORE THAN ME?"

I felt overwhelmed. "No! I don't think that, it's just -,"

"Don't you EVER tell me how to do my job! I have been operating for twenty-six years, and all you've done is read books in university and cut out a few kidney stones!" She whirled and wrenched open the door, flicking her tail towards it so violently it actually made a snap. "Get out!"

I rushed through, not wanting to be under the heat any longer than I had to. I almost didn't get my tail out of the way before she slammed the door on it. I stood there, staring at the door in shock for at least a minute trying to process what had just happened. I had never thought it possible for Doctor Andrena to be angry, much less livid. She could be irritable, but beyond that she was always calm and collected. I walked back to our locker room, finding Darkling eating. I remember him leering at me and voicing my original thoughts on Doctor Andrena's capacity to be angry; he then started jeering at me, reenacting what I said in an annoying voice. I told him to choke on his dried gazelle, and he just laughed at me. I started leaving when he made the passing comment that he wouldn't be surprised if we saw all my things thrown outside the infirmary tomorrow.

That actually made me think about the consequences I might suffer for calling out Doctor Andrena. I realized that I might have angered her enough to consider terminating my apprenticeship, which would demolish my chances of being a doctor. My mind raced as I thought of what I could possibly do to convince the doctor to not wipe away all my hard work. I grimaced, knowing that one option was to write a brownnosing apology and give it to her tonight, before she had time to sleep on her anger. I hated the idea of apologizing to her for something I knew was right, and a youthful voice in my head reminded me of my theory that she had to license me because I would be an excellent surgeon. However, the truth was that she had not given me any opportunities to make significant accomplishments. I still hadn't been cleared to operate on HiveWings, and like she said before, the most I had done was remove kidney stones and tumors.

For the next three hours I jumped back and forth between tending to patients and writing a well thought letter of apology. I knew I had irritated some dragons because they could tell I was not devoting every ounce of my attention to them, as a medical dragon should to his patients, but I did not care. If I did not make a real attempt to fix this, I wouldn't have an opportunity to make it up to them. Finally my shift was coming to a close, and I made the final touches to my letter, which was a page and half in total.

I found Doctor Andrena in her office. When I knocked and heard her admittance to enter, I noted that her tone was stiff and dangerous, and my stomach knotted as I worried that it was still too soon to approach her. I had already knocked, however, and to back out now would only irritate her. She looked at me with those stony eyes she had possessed during the surgery, so I kept my visit brief, giving her a verbal summary of my apology and laying it on her desk. All she said in response to my entire spiel was "Very well."

A cold stone in my belly weighed me down as I flew home. I was calculating the likelihood of losing my apprenticeship, and as far as I could tell between Doctor Andrena's tone and eyes, it was high. To my relief I made it home in time to see Viceroy; I needed someone to unload on, to vent my fury about the operation and my worries of getting kicked out. Viceroy listened to me with unblinking eyes, and I watched as those eyes went from concern to outright disappointment. It was heartbreaking, because I truly felt like I had failed the father I loved and whose respect I always vied for. When I finished, he only shook his head and reminded me of the times he told me to learn to take the rhino scat on the chin and keep going, and I could only nod my head and say. "Yeah, I know. I didn't listen." We spoke for another hour until he announced he needed to leave. That was a night that I ached to go with him, to be under the same roof as the ones I could take comfort in.

For the next week, I anticipated Doctor Andrena approaching me with the news that would cripple me. When I tended to dragons I worked hard to keep my predicament out of my head; patients deserved all my attention, and I knew I still needed to practice being a doctor even if I might never become one. Even so, it was a storm cloud I could always see over the horizon, and it doused me in rain and thunder when I was alone. I scrutinized Doctor Andrena every time she entered the room and looked at me, searching for any hint that would betray my fate, but she remained deadpan. She never broached the incident, however, and after several weeks I thought myself in the clear and started breathing again. However, at the tail end of that period, I did something that took several days of emotional prep, something I felt was my responsibility after everything I had done and not done: I went to see Glasswing breach her cocoon.

I did not want to do it. I knew it would be bad, but I felt I would be a coward if I didn't. I went to the Mantis Hive Cocoon and found Glasswing's family, which were her parents and big brother. They all looked nervous, and when I approached and explained that I wanted to see how Glasswing would fare, I realized my presence worsened their moods. I don't know what Doctor Andrena had told them about the surgery, but it must not have been terribly hunky-dory. We waited about thirty minutes before Glasswing began jerking around beneath the weaves of her cocoon, and we held our breath and counted the seconds before she broke through. She split the silk in her makeshift prison and started worming her way out, and when her wings finally emerged, we saw that it was worse than we had thought.

Not only were there gaping holes in the wing membrane, which might have been much smaller if Doctor Andrena had not removed so much, but somehow several bone slivers had been cut out as well. Both her radius and ulna were split halfway, resulting in the wing appearing broken and flopping down like two halves of a broken stick being connected by a shaving of bark. It was awful watching Glasswing look to her left wing with worry, then watch that concern morph into tear driven horror. The entire family looked at Glasswing's mangled limb with gaped mouths, then looked at me with eyes that were begging for a miracle.

I stepped forward and examined the wing, hoping out of denial that I could find something to salvage it, but I could only shake my head. I explained that a cast could be used to pull the wing up and at a comfortable angle, but nothing could make it strong enough for flight. Glasswing sat down on the ground to keen, and her family surrounded her and hugged her, tears wetting their jowls. I wanted to extend comfort to her as well, to show her how sorry I was, but she looked at me through a gap in her family's bodies with eyes teeming with vitriol. A defensive part of me wanted to explain that it wasn't my fault, that if it were me she would have a functioning wing, but I stayed silent. A dragonet had just been robbed of a basic right to all dragonkind; it didn't matter who did the surgery. I whispered my condolences to her, then left without another word.

I lay awake that night, reliving the scene. I could not close my eyes without seeing her own staring at me with all that hatred, and even in the darkness I could still hear her weeping beyond the shadows. I did what I think most of us do, and thought of all the ways I could have prevented the damage. If I had used a different tone, or spotted the bone splinters in the incision, or even asked a question that made Doctor Andrena rethink her approach. The more I thought about it, however, the more I realized it probably would not have mattered. Doctor Andrena was too confident in her ability to be swayed, and she apparently had a different idea of what a successful laminae corrupta surgery was. Where I defined success being the patient got to keep her wing and use it to fly like her brethren, Doctor Andrena only took it as far as removing the rot without having to remove the wing. The worst part was that, in the technical sense, this had been a successful surgery. The wing had been unfolded without ripping the whole thing out, the rot was removed, the wing was folded and set back into the bud, and then had grown as successfully as it could have during Metamorphosis. The only way it could have failed was if the wing was ripped out, got twisted when being put back inside the bud, or the rot had returned.

My stomach burned at the knowledge that Doctor Andrena would be bragging about this surgery. I wanted to her see Glasswing when she got out of that cocoon, watch that dragonet bawl her eyes out, and ask her if that was what a successful surgery looked like. My blood only turned volatile as I imagined this scenario realistically, and how Doctor Andrena would only shake her head with a grimace and say. "Well, not everything can work out perfectly." Then she'd go back to her day without a second thought on the matter.

That was also the night I realized just how much I had screwed myself over. For about eight months I had been bullheaded, learning nothing from my experiences in university. I spent my time arguing with the doctor and being defiant to her input about SilkWings, thinking that was the only way I could change the world. As a result, I had set back my progress as a surgeon. Out of genuine belief that I wasn't ready or out of spite, Doctor Andrena would not let me near serious operations while my fellow apprentices were already beyond that point. Now, her view of me was worse because I called her out and humiliated her during a high stakes surgery, something she was looking to polish her image and stature. I realized that I probably had just failed my apprenticeship, meaning I would need to start another year or more of training. I hadn't been changing anyone's minds for the last eight months; I had been sabotaging myself.

Four more months passed, and then came the day we were lined up and told who would be licensed and who wouldn't. Sure enough, I was the only one not licensed, Doctor Andrena saying I had potential but she didn't think I was ready. I had been steeling myself for this news, but it still cut my heart with a serrated edge. It also did not help that Darkling made a point of chuckling when Doctor Andrena's back was turned, and sneering at me with those eyes that reveled in my disappointment. I only nodded my head though, trying to give no indication of how miserable I was. I packed all my equipment and was out of the infirmary within thirty minutes.

My stomach was filled with acid, and a dark cloud was swirling in my head. I was angry. My youthful arrogance and stubbornness had just cost me my license, and I had nobody to blame but myself. I cracked that day and snuck into Viceroy's home, where my adopted family comforted me as best they could. Buckeye and Swallowtail were the easiest to listen to; they took the satisfying but unconstructive route of ranting about how stupid Doctor Andrena was. I would smirk and remind them of how I had stepped out of line, but they were adamant in the validity of my actions and words, and we continued to joke and laugh at the apparent idiocy of the other side. This lifted my spirits, but Viceroy and Ruby Tiger tempered my salvaged jubilation; they were quiet and observed us kids with calculating eyes, which I knew foreshadowed a lecture.

After an hour, Ruby Tiger finally spoke, reminding me that I needed to change my behavior if I wanted to get anywhere right now. She told me that so long as I was an underling, I would need to do something that all SilkWings were very acquainted with: being silent and keep trekking, regardless of what injustice was happening. She told me that it would be hard, but added that I had one advantage that no SilkWing had: if I got high and established enough, I could bite back and hold my own. Viceroy became somewhat of a wet towel here, saying I could only bite so hard given that Queen Wasp would likely imprison me if I challenged the norms too much. I could only grit my teeth and agree; dealing with the queen when it came to fighting for justice was a constant hiccup to all my plans. Still, while their advice was not as satisfying as complaining about the situation, they gave me something to work with in the long term.

I went home late that night, and stayed up even later writing a letter to Doctor Andrena. I asked her with as much humility as words could convey for another apprenticeship under her wings, saying I wanted to continue working with her since she would know when I was ready. I hated giving her such power, and knew this would only be the loathsome beginning of brownnosing her if she did extend another apprenticeship. However, I was familiar with her, and at the time I figured I knew best how to play to her good side, now that I was so well versed on how to get on her bad side. I was nervous sending it out, wondering if she would continue to spite me by respectfully denying me a second chance. However, three days later I received a reply from her, which said she would be happy to continue fostering my potential.

That was a rough year for me because it was a reminder that I still had plenty of growing pains to endure. I'm glad that I was intelligent enough to learn from my mistakes though, even if it was later than would have been convenient. I lost an entire year of progress, but I often wonder where I would be if I had not been stung so deeply by my own arrogance. I cannot say I would have accomplished what I have today, or even be standing as free and alive as I am if I continued harboring that self-righteous attitude.


End file.
